


Early Mornings

by Writing_Goat



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Quick Write Challenge, Romance, Sally Face - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_Goat/pseuds/Writing_Goat
Summary: Early mornings are always experienced differently when you're always waking up underground. Basements had a charm no other floor of the apartment could compare. Specially when a certain prosthetic faced friend knew you left your windows unlocked.





	Early Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick write challenge for myself. Been ages since I wrote anything.

I remember those early mornings.  
They would start up slow, the sky taking it’s time, waking up.  
The darkness of night crept away as orange, pink skies took it place.  
Then the sky lit up like the color of your eyes.

I remember the light creeping it’s way into my windows,  
Much like how you would sneak into mine, late at night.  
You would smell of the dirt outside, the water, of alcohol.  
You’ve been sneaking your father’s drinks, weren’t you?

We were so young, I could remember the taste.  
The tears.  
The beer.  
Your breath.

You loved to tangle yourself in my hair.  
Telling me how you never wanted me to cut it.  
You loved how it felt.  
I didn’t have to assume, you told me so.

The bells of the church would ring, breaking us of our trance.  
I’d take you hand, and lead you back outside.  
The grass covered in frost, shades of orange and blue dancing the lawn.  
I lead you to our chapel.  
Our place of worship.

There, we had everything we needed.  
Everything we wanted.  
We had each other.  
I’d pull the blankets close, and wrap them around you.  
You’d pull me close, keeping me against you.

I wanted to kiss you so many times.  
If there was a God, a Heaven.  
Then your lips would match mine.  
I never did kiss you, however.  
Because you been sneaking drinks from your father’s flask.

Yet. One day.  
This early morning memory.  
God, if you hear me.  
Please don’t let me forget.

I remember the way your body leaned over mine.  
The way the light danced off your hair and onto mine.  
The morning light pushing through opened windows.  
Your lap, on mine.

We were still young, I could remember the taste.  
The tears.  
The smoke.  
Your heart.

The sight of you should have struck fear.  
Instead, it struck love in my heart.  
I felt your hands in my hair, the way you wrapped it in your fists.  
I remember you guiding my hands into your hair.  
The church bells rang.

We made our way to our church, our world.  
Up the ladder, into the tree.  
The light cascading it’s light on everything we could see.  
You pulled me against you, I'll never forget your eyes.  
They were clear as day, as mine were clear as night.  
You took my hands and gave me the right.

My hands trembled then, unclasping your mask.  
I remember the deafening sound it made, as it fell to the ground.  
Your face was marred, scarred. Never quite healed.  
Your eyes closed shut, out of fear.  
Here, I could see your lips matched mine.

You cried as we kissed.  
The sound was heart wrenching.  
I pulled your body against mine.  
It was sweet, innocent. Nothing would be the same.  
Yet, nothing changed.

The light would still shine on you.  
The shadows didn’t consume us.  
The bells at the church didn’t stop ringing.  
God himself wouldn't curse us.

I could remember the color in your eyes never fading.  
No matter how deeply they stared into mine.  
You were art, and I, the artist.  
We were one in two. Two in one.  
Neither without the other.  
My mother would catch us, but she never cared.

We were young.  
We were stupid.  
But those early mornings had me believing in God again.  
That God made me, for you.


End file.
